


Wrong

by xerchisha



Series: Dishonored Timeline Shift [1]
Category: Dishonored (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, High Chaos (Dishonored), High Chaos Week 2k15
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-21
Updated: 2015-07-21
Packaged: 2018-04-10 10:07:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4387652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xerchisha/pseuds/xerchisha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for carvedwhalebones' High Chaos week on tumblr. Based on the thought of: what if Corvo didn't come home early?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wrong

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on my art/writing tumblr, vicreatesthings. Mostly made up as I went along. Couldn't think of a particularly decent title, so.

It was too easy. There were no guards, not even her Lord Protector. Burrows had promised that there would be no interference, but it still felt _wrong._

For days after that, Daud found himself watching Dunwall tower, even when he had no reason to do so. He was watching when, a week later, the Lord Protector returned – with ill news, most likely. Burrows greeted the man, and though Daud could not hear what was said, he knew all the same.

The Empress was murdered, and her daughter Emily abducted. Even from the roof where he stood, Daud could hear the Lord Protector’s cries of anguish.

It felt _wrong._

Months passed. The plague worsened. Hiram Burrows appointed himself Lord Regent. The Lord Protector launched a search for the young Empress, and for her mother’s murderer. A high reward was offered for any hint as to the whereabouts of either. But there was no mention of Daud, or the Whalers. Perhaps Hiram knew he risked exposing himself if he did point the finger. Perhaps it had just been forgotten.

Either way, it felt _wrong._

There were rumors of the Lord Protector stalking the streets side-by-side with the guardsmen and Overseers. There were rumors of blood, innocent and not, running through the gutters.

There were rumors of swarms of plague rats that followed where ever the Protector went, and heresy and magic so dark and twisted even the Overseers were too afraid to confront.

_Wrong, wrong, wrong._

One day, Daud woke to find himself in the Void. Even this felt wrong. He should not be here, he thought. It should not be like this. Even as the Outsider spoke, that feeling of wrongness pervaded. Even as the Outsider gave him a mystery – a name – Delilah.

When he woke for real, he heard a voice faintly on the edge of consciousness: _This was not how it was meant to be._

As he hunted a name, he kept on the lookout for the Lord Protector. It was a strange sort of paranoia, where he did not dread being found, but instead wished for it, and he grew more uneasy with each passing day.

Rumor said the Lord Protector had turned on Hiram Burrows. Rumor said he had murdered the Lord Regent in the tower one night, and fled into the dying city. The High Overseer took over then. Daud warned his men to beware of Overseers becoming bolder and patrolling further into the Flooded District.

There was a whaleboat named Delilah, that worked out of Rothwild Slaughterhouse. That was his first – and, regrettably, only – clue.

No one survived the explosion. The journey back to the Flooded District was silent, and he could feel Billie’s eyes boring into his back behind her mask. He didn’t care. He had gotten what he needed. He just wanted that feeling of _wrongness_ to go away.

He followed the trail to Barrister Timsh. There was nothing quick or merciful about the man’s death. Daud tried to ignore the Outsider’s snide remarks, Billie’s cold stare.

Rumors said that Corvo Attano was working with a group called the Loyalists. Rumors said that he was a rabid dog who would tear through anyone or anything between him and the young Empress, if the mutilated High Overseer was anything to go by.

Rumors said that Daud was no better.

But there wasn’t any time for rumors. The Overseers had made a push into the Flooded District, capturing the Whaler’s stronghold. Good men were killed in the process. Behind it was Delilah…and Billie Lurk.

He killed her without hesitation. It felt wrong, it felt so _wrong_ , but what else could he do? It was too late for anything to feel right, that much he knew.

He dreamed of Corvo coming and killing him, and it wasn’t a nightmare.

There was so much blood flowing on either side of the conflict. Corvo tore through his enemies like they were paper, and Daud destroyed everything in his path, trying to dull that feeling of _wrongness._

It only got worse the further and further he went, the closer and closer he came to his end.

_I see a man walking a tightrope over a sea and blood and filth. The Empress is dead, and the water’s rising._

_You’d better hurry. You’re running out of rope._

Was it irony, that his final goal was to save a little girl who’s life he’d ruined? Was it irony that he dealt so much death, to save one life? Or was it merely some great cosmic joke?

Delilah was dead, and Daud had the scratches to prove it. But there was still the Lord Protector to contest with, the rabid dog who, rumor had it, had finally turned against those who held the leash.

He was found floating in a boat on the river, half-dead. Daud did not fear him. Something in the old assassin even welcomed the idea of death at this man’s hands. But self-preservation is strong, even in those who no longer cared for it.

He hacked off the unconscious man’s marked hand, gritting his teeth against the unearthly screech that shattered through his mind, against the pain in his own mark, against the surge of _wrongness_ that flooded his core. Something in him knew it wouldn’t matter, as he tossed the hand into the weeper-infested refinery with the rest of Attano’s gear.

And so he waited. He waited, and waited.

And finally, the Lord Protector came, an unholy creature held together by bits of twine and dark magic, a rabid dog nearing the end of it’s days. Daud wondered how much of himself was in Corvo, if it mattered at all.

His Whalers were dead, slaughtered down to the last man. Thomas had fallen in a last-ditch effort to protect him, and he grimaced at the Whaler’s corpse. The fool didn’t have to die. It was just one more _wrongness_ on top of all the others.

Corvo stood over him, stinking of blood and dark magic. Daud felt his mouth moving, the absurd words falling from his tongue. He knew the answer already. He would accept no other answer, even if it was given.

As the Lord Protector’s blade fell, something finally felt _right._


End file.
